Of course, I will sing of Kismet.
Tales were told of the riches of Kismet: of the gems and the spices and the jewellery like no other, of the council of bickering Merchant Houses and their vaults of untold wealth, of the eerie pale desert and the perilous mangroves and all the strange beasts that dwell across them.
Of course, Kismet is gone.
First there was the Sundering, when the ground rent open and spat forth ash and fire and plague. The Hall of the Houses was swallowed up, along with half of the Black City of Maldragazar, and the Ilsaari Steppe was smothered by the Bone-Spore Pest.
Of course, that was only the prelude for poor Kismet.
Not a decade later, from across the sea came the Obsedant Empire and their Plated Fighters, beckoned by the riches passed around by the merchant-ships of House Naalu.
House Kel Onar threatened to withhold their grain and raise their levies, yet were soon brought under the Empire's heel.
House Uvri stood no chance, their forges and workshops silenced by the Bone Pest.
Only House Mukdir and their war-magi broke out in rebellion, and they were exterminated in response.
Yet even in the face of such death and destruction, the ultimate humiliation fell upon the Sanctioned Assassins of House Batem, their storied fangs plucked by the Empire's diplomats.
Now, tales are still told of the land to the East: of the gems and metals plucked from deep mines and quarries, of the council of Merchant Houses that jockey for influence, of the ashen remains of the Black City and the shroom-smothered Spore Wilds.
Of course, I will sing, yet now the stories speak of Cadastre, the Most Prized Sixth Realm of the Obsedant Empire.
The Council of Houses has answered to the Empire for Two Centuries, and will do for many more.
Of Course, Long Live Cadastre, and Hail the Obsedant.
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